Lies I Told my Mother: On The Possession of a Gun
I've chewed holes in my bottom lip,
Big bloody holes covered by dark lipstick;
And the shades of purple intermix
With the ruby hue of helpful ticks.
For the robber, I opened the door
It's a wonder he didn't steal something more.
I unlocked the door to let him inside
And I spoke with mute things in order to hide
But his voice rang through the walls of my mind
And soon enough his words were mine:
I said that I have got a gun,
Not for Safety,
Just for fun.
I said I don't care much,
For this race or that,
But surely my government doesn't know that.
But now that I can,
I'll show them I'm a man.
I'll show the girls
Who all know my hand.
And I'll put it into their throats too deep
Show them how life looks without sleep
And I'll teach them how to love my gun
I'll teach them exactly how fast they can run
And when they think they've found distance's armor
I'll show them my bullet reaches a few feet farther
I shut my mouth, ashamed at my words,
Stitched my bottom lip
To the top
To make the blood
And the foreign words stop.
I let the robber do his deed
But never again did I feel free.
There’s not much left of me:
The blinds cast shadows from the streetlight
And leave remnants on your bedroom floor,
Like crumpled clothes and used hair ties,
All worn out and happier
From the flicker of last night.
And there’s not much left of you,
But crumbs of the broken
Things you once loved.
And there’s not a whole lot left of us,
But the makeup stains on your
The one you wore
Half of every night
We spent together in the spotlight
Casting jail cell lines
From your bedroom blinds.
And never was I happier
Than when I laid beside
The man whose only love was blind.